


Rep His Colors

by LeftWingLibrarian



Category: Superstition Hockey
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Dumb hockey players being dumb, Fluff and Smut, Hockey sweaters as lingerie, M/M, Making Love, Romantic Gestures, Soft Hockey Boys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-04
Updated: 2018-04-04
Packaged: 2019-04-18 06:06:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14206758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeftWingLibrarian/pseuds/LeftWingLibrarian
Summary: The jersey settles on Luc’s shoulders and try as he might, he can’t contain the shudder that twitches through his body at its touch. Orange. So orange. Philadelphia-Fucking-Flyer-Orange.orLuc continues his attempts at romance by wearing Jacks' Flyers sweater. And nothing else.





	Rep His Colors

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Superstition](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6099484) by [Superstition_hockey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Superstition_hockey/pseuds/Superstition_hockey). 



> Several friends and I have spent the last few weeks completely obsessed with the Superstition series by [Superstition_hockey](https://archiveofourown.org/series/413233). It is absolutely fantastic and I can't recommend it highly enough. Also this probably won't make any sense if you haven't read at least some of the series.
> 
> Big thanks to jamesiee for introducing me to these dumb, adorable boys and to [TuppingLiberty](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TuppingLiberty/pseuds/TuppingLiberty) for cheering me on.

The jersey settles on Luc’s shoulders and try as he might, he can’t contain the shudder that twitches through his body at its touch. Orange. So orange. Philadelphia-Fucking-Flyer-Orange.

Oliver Jackson orange, too, he tries to remind himself. Orange like Jacks’ hair glinting in the sunset, the tiny freckles that crinkle up near his eyes when he smiles that make Luc want to kiss every single one, the scrape of his beard against Luc’s mouth when he gets that perfect amount of stubble that leaves Luc’s thighs raw and remembering for hours after when he puts his mouth …

“Fuuuuck, that is ugly,” Luc’s pleasant train of thought is interrupted by the sight of himself in the mirror above the headboard. Which, really, is all good, because Jacks should be home from the store pretty soon. Maybe Luc has time to turn the mirror around before he gets back so he won’t have to catch another glance at himself in the offending item while Jacks is fucking his brains out. 

He hops up on the bed to investigate, but decides against it when he catches a view of his shoulders and the JACKSON blazoned across them. Jacks might want to see this from other angles, he figures, and since the whole thing is for Jacks anyway, it’s better to leave it.

Luc got the whole idea from a magazine article he found while waiting for a smoothie a few weeks ago, and since “Find a way to watch” was one of the other Six Stellar Ways To Spice Up Your Sex Life This Summer, the mirror is definitely not a bad idea.

“Rep his colors,” was number four on the list.

“He’ll love playing quarterback to your cheerleader when you show you support him — and his team! — by putting on some playful gear from his favorite sports franchise. Dress up as a dancer and rock those little shorts and a plunging neckline. Or go for a sexy, sporty look by donning his favorite player’s number. Bonus points if you sub in your guy’s name on the back!”

And while the whole thing was kind of gross and made Luc a little queasy with its blatant misogyny and heteronormative bullshit, he is also pretty confident that he owns the “sexy, sporty look.” Plus it seemed like something Jacks would find super romantic, and it didn’t even require Luc to buy anything new. Win-win. 

So that’s how he found himself here, wearing a hideously orange — seriously, who the fuck thought this color was a good idea — No. 42 Flyers jersey and waiting for his husband to get home so they can have some epic sexy times. He grabs the lube from the nightstand and is trying to decide where to put it so it’s convenient when he hears Jacks come home. 

“Hi honey, I’m home,” Jacks sings from the kitchen. 

Shit, Luc forgot this part of the plan. But he can improvise. It’s not like it should be that hard to get Jacks to the bedroom once he knows the play, right?

“Chants, you OK babe?” Jacks calls.

“Yeah, all good. Come here for a sec.”

“How about instead you come here and help me put away these groceries?”

And OK, Luc can work with that. He tosses the lube on the bed and rucks up the sweater a bit so he can give himself a few strokes. He’s already got a half-chub going from the breeze that’s making the jersey skate across his ass and the thought of how he’s about to get dicked down, so he’s fully erect by the time he pads into the kitchen, where his husband is putting away groceries. He doesn’t look up when Luc comes in, even when Luc clears his throat and tries to lean seductively up against the doorframe.

“Oli,” he says, trying for a breathless whisper.

Jacks does finally look up, still holding a pineapple he was putting away, but his face doesn’t light up with lust when he sees Luc. He actually looks … concerned?

“Chants, what … what are you wearing?”

“Uh, just the number of my all-time favorite hockey player, Oliver Jackson.”

“Yes, I can see that. Why? You hate the Flyers. You hate orange.”

Apparently they’ve been married long enough that Luc is starting to find dad-joke humor funny, because he can’t help snorting at the pun, which just slips out.

“Orange you glad to see me repping your number?”

Jacks doesn’t laugh. Instead his eyebrows furrow with worry.

“I am legitimately concerned for your mental health right now.”

“Dude, I’m fine,” Luc comes around the kitchen island to put a hand to Jacks’ cheek. “I’m just, you know, trying to seduce you.”

The corner of Jacks’ mouth quirks up in the hint a smile. “And you think dad jokes and wearing a jersey you are practically allergic to are the way into my pants? I want a divorce.”

“Our marriage has a very specific no-move, no-trade clause,” Luc growls, crowding in close to lean on the counter, rucking up the jersey to play a hand over his own abs. His dick catches on the hem and bobs between them and Oh fuck that is good because it’s JACKS and everything with Jacks is good always, for all time. 

“Yeah?” Jacks manages, breathy, and Luc knows he’s won.

“Yeah, you’re stuck with me, Oli. I’m yours forever.”

That was, apparently, the right thing to say, because with a groan of “fuck” Jacks is surging up to devour Luc’s mouth and his arms are wrapping around him and this is going to be so good and …

“YEOW!” Luc is pretty sure he has never jumped that high before.

“Oh shit, Chants, sorry. I’m so sorry, babe. Are you OK?” Jacks is standing there, still holding the pineapple, looking as crestfallen as Mako when she can’t find her ball.

“No worries, bud,” Luc smiles and God, he loves Jacks so much. Jacks still looks hangdog as Luc leans back in to take his wrist, forcing Jacks to set the pineapple on the counter before settling his hands on Luc’s waist. Luc reaches his arms up around Jacks’ neck and mouths along the orange stubble to whisper in his ear. ““You’ve always been a pain in the ass, I shouldn’t be surprised now.”

That earns him a laugh and a shove from Jacks, and then the air seems to tighten, thrumming with — excitement? Tension? Luc isn’t sure, but it feels like they are on the edge of something.

“Watch out, or I’ll show you just how big of a pain in your ass I can be,” Jacks says, and he’s leering at Luc, hungry and aching and then Jacks is here and they are stumbling to the bedroom while they bite and kiss and suck and Jacks is shucking his sandals and taking off his shirt and finally they are in the bedroom.

Luc collapses on the bed, pulling Jacks down on top of him just as Jacks is slipping out of his basketball shorts, and Luc slides them off the rest of the way with a well-placed foot. He tips off the snapback Jacks had thrown on to cover his rumpled summer curls, pulling at the geeky T-shirt until he has it up around Jacks’ shoulders and breaks off their kiss just long enough to pull it over his head, diving back in to meet Jacks’ mouth the moment his head emerges. 

Meanwhile Jacks has been running his hands all over Luc, stroking down his thighs or tightening a hand in his hair to pull him in for an even deeper kiss. Now naked, he runs his hands up Luc’s sides, stroking his ribs, over his abs, down his backbone. The sweater is bunching up around Luc’s pecs and Jacks dives in to nibble at a nipple.

“Fuck, babe, that feels so good,” Luc hisses, eyes rolling back at the feel of Jacks pressing down on top of him, licking him, biting him, touching him everywhere, the weight and heft of Jacks’ cock against his thigh. 

His eyes fly open though when Jacks hefts him up, starting to pull off the jersey.

“What … Oli …”

“What’s wrong,” Jacks pauses, searching Luc’s face. “Do you want me to stop?” And he’s pulling back and no, this is not how this is supposed to go. 

“No, no, don’t stop. I just — I thought you could fuck me while I wear it? Is that not romantic? It’s like, to show that I’m yours, you know?” Luc can feel himself babbling and fuck he is so bad at this romance thing. 

But Jacks, Jacks gets it. And Luc is still babbling but he’s pretty sure it’s OK because Jacks’ face is doing that thing where he looks like he’s going to cry, but in a good way, but his pupils are also blown so he’s turned on and it’s definitely a look that means good things are in Luc’s immediate future. 

“Say that again,” Jacks manages in a choked growl.

“What? That I’m yours?”

“Yeah,” Jacks breaths and this is gonna be good because he looks like he absolutely wants to devour Luc.

“I’m yours, Oliver Jackson. I am yours, body and soul.”

And suddenly Luc is flipping over onto his front as his legs get pushed open and Jacks’ big hands are on his ass, pushing the muscle aside and Jacks’ mouth is on his hole, hot and desperate and wet and so, so good. His tongue flicks in and out, Luc already loose and stretched from a summer spent fucking and being fucked by his husband and God how is this so perfect every fucking time? 

“Where’s the lube?” Jacks surfaces to ask, and Luc finds it in the folds of the comforter, tossing it back to Jacks, who catches it. Luc turns around to see Jacks opening the bottle, coating his fingers and slicking up his cock. 

“You’re mine, Luc.” Two fingers slide in and find Luc’s prostate and his head hits the bed as sparks fill his vision. “Mine. You always have been. I belong to you but fuck if you don’t belong to me, too.”

Luc manages some incoherent groans as Jacks adds another finger, stroking him hard and steady. Luc is not going to last.

“I’m going to open you up and fuck you so deep and so hard,” Jacks adds another finger, climbing up to purr in Luc’s ear. “I’m going to claim you. Mark you up, cum in you so deep and so hard that you’ll feel it for days. So you’ll never forget who you belong to. Is that what you want? Want me to take you? To show you that you belong to me and no one else?”

“Fuck, yes, Jacks, please,” Luc gasps. He wants this, he wants it so bad. He’d almost give up hockey if it meant he could have Jacks’ dick in him right now.

“Shh, OK,” Jacks whispers, rubbing a soothing hand up Luc’s spine. “That’s what I’m gonna do, babe. Gonna claim you as mine, fuck you so good you’ll always remember that you belong to me.” 

Luc can’t even answer at this point, too overwhelmed by the filthy words and hot breath in his ear and on his neck, the feeling of Jacks looming over him and the the blunt pressure of his cock lining up with Luc’s hole. Luc tries to relax as Jacks slides in slowly, shifting his knees closer, deeper, until he bottoms out. There’s a pause, their heavy breathing the only thing breaking the stillness of their room, late afternoon sunshine streaming through the window. 

“Okay?” Jacks murmurs after a moment, because he knows Luc is still kind of new at bottoming and even when in the heat of passion he takes his time to make sure Luc is alright and Luc loves him so damn much.

“Yeah,” Luc manages with a sigh, feeling boneless as he relaxes even farther into the stretch. “Yeah, Oli, I’m good.”

“Good,” Jacks draws it out, stroking up Luc’s back slowly with one hand before shoving him down into the mattress, snapping his hips back and then absolutely pounding into Luc. “I’m gonna make it so good for you, Chants. Make you come so hard. Make you feel it.”

“Tabernack, yesss.” A hiss is all Luc can manage as he gives in and rests his face in his arms, popping up his hips as Jacks hauls him closer and sets a relentless, hammering pace that has heat pooling in Luc’s gut and it’s so much and so so good. Jacks hauls on his hips and tilts them just a bit so he can hit Luc’s prostate just right with every thrust, and Luc knows his brain is somewhere in between his dick and his hole, and he just gives up, letting Jacks’ words wash over him and letting his body take over. He is vaguely aware that he’s moaning and swearing, but honestly has no idea what is coming out of his mouth. 

He can feel the heat of orgasm pooling in his gut, and spares a brief thought for whether he wants to get a hand on himself — or better yet, Jacks’ — when he realizes the strong arms that have been stroking his sides and arms and grasping his hips so hard they will leave marks have turned gentle, and are delicately tracing over the letters of J-A-C-K-S-O-N emblazoned across his shoulders. He pulls himself up to look in the mirror, as Jacks quiets his pounding rhythm and stills, not leaving Luc, but altering the air in the room from savage and reckless to fragile and breakable.

“Jacks? Oli, are … are you OK?” 

Jacks’ eyes fly up to lock with his in the mirror at the sound of Luc’s voice. His eyes are dark and his face is a little scrunched up again in that way that means he might cry, but in a good way.

“You really mean it, don’t you? You really are mine.”

“Yeah, of course. Oli … of course I am.” Luc pulls away, wincing slightly at the loss as Jacks slips out as Luc turns around, but it’s OK, because Jacks needs to be in his arms right now and not feeling sad. “Of course I am, you’re the love of my life. I always dreamed of you, and then you were here and … and it was more than I ever could have imagined.”

Jacks snuggles into Luc’s arms willingly, burying his face in his shoulder and wrapping his arms around Luc so, so tight and he might be crying just a little bit because the sweater is feeling a little bit damp but that’s OK. Luc strains to hear what Jacks is saying because it’s a little muffled.

“You always say stuff like that but … I guess I just … sometimes I have a hard time believing this is real, you know?”

“Jacks. Mon coeur. Ma vie,” Luc pulls Jacks’ face up to meet his eyes once again, using a thumb to brush away a lingering tear. “You … we’re ... together, we’re everything. Please don’t ever doubt that.”

“OK,” Jacks says with a sniffle, shy smile spreading once again. “Yeah. You too, Chants. I love you.”

“Je t’aime aussi,” Luc says, reaching up for one more kiss. Jacks’ dick bobs against his stomach as they move and Luc realizes that both of them are still hard as the ice feels after a dirty check. “Now, I believe I was promised a fucking that I would always remember.”

Jacks is grinning once again and Luc kind of can’t handle how much he loves him. 

“Nah, I’ve changed my mind,” he says, cackling at the look of outrage that must be flitting across Luc’s face. “Chill. You’re still gonna get it, I’m just gonna make sweet, sweet love to you instead. That OK?”

“Yeah, OH GOD YEAH,” Luc may yell a little bit as Jacks slides back in. He just feels so. fucking. amazing. 

“Love you,” Jacks murmurs into his skin as he presses kisses across Luc’s cheeks and down his neck, grinding slowly, exquisitely inside him, stoking the fire right back up again so that Luc is right back on the edge in seconds.

“Love you too, Jacks, always,” Luc gasps as Jacks hauls him a bit closer, changing the angle so it is achingly perfect. “Je t’aime toujours.”

“Ah fuck,” Jacks practically roars as he comes, pulsing hot and hard inside Luc, surging up inside and ducking his head down to catch Luc’s mouth in a rough kiss. 

Luc only has a moment to feel smug — lovey-dovey French gets Jacks every damn time — before Jacks, still breathing heavy, is wriggling a hand between them to stroke Luc, starting his slow grind again in time with the strokes. It’s a little too dry, though Jacks’ hand is still a bit slick from the lube he used to open him up, and the sweater is scratchy and rubbing against the head of his dick and it’s sweaty between them because the window is open and Jacks has been working hard and so many things are adding up to make it so it shouldn’t be perfect but somehow it is and Luc arches up into Jacks’ hand and comes, striping the stupid flying P with cum which Luc manages to feel vague satisfaction about, though he is also kind of not sure if he’s actually still alive.

Jacks appears to be feeling the same way, because he’s still breathing hard and collapses down on Luc, entwining their hands and kissing his neck lazily as he catches his breath. They lay there catching their breath for a moment, lazily trading kisses, Luc releasing one hand to card his fingers through Jacks hair. Jacks begins to kiss him again in earnest, free hand playing with the bunched up jersey at Luc’s waist. 

Luc’s dick is starting to perk up, and he can feel Jacks stirring against his thigh and thinks Round 2 is about to commence when Jacks suddenly pulls back, propping himself up on his hands and pulling a face as he looks down at the mess of cum-covered sweater between them.

“Dude, wait. Is this actually mine? Or did you buy a new one?”

“All yours, bud. It’s the one that was up on the top shelf of the closet …” and now Luc is vaguely confused because Jacks is rolling off of him and sliding out because he is laughing so hard and it’s enough that it is definitely making Luc smile even though he isn’t quite sure what the big joke is. “What?”

Jacks can’t even answer right away because he is laughing so hard he is crying now, but he finally manages to calm down enough to choke out a reply.

“That’s … oh man, I’m sorry, I can’t stop,” Jacks is still gasping. “That’s the one I was going to send out to my Granddad. He wanted to frame it and display it in the living room.”

That sets Jacks off howling again and yeah, that’s pretty damn funny, Luc’s gotta admit, and he finds himself caught up in it, both of them laughing until their abs ache and they curl back toward one another.

“I mean, you still could. It’s washable.”

“No fucking way, Chants. That is not what I need to be thinking about every time I go out to Cape Breton.”

“Isn’t it, though?” Luc pulls Jacks in for another lazy kiss.

“Mm, yeah, no,” Jacks says, kissing back before pulling away a bit. “I’ll get another one to send. This one though …” he works a hand up under the sweater to stroke Luc’s side, “This one we should keep around. I would definitely like to see around the house again.”

“I could possibly be persuaded, but only on special occasions,” Luc says, surging up on his elbow to start kissing Jacks again. “I mean it’s the ugliest sweater in the history of mankind, but ….” he breaks for more kisses. “... I mean, it does belong to my favorite player, so.”

He pulls Jacks back down to make out and it’s starting to get hot and heavy when Jacks shoots up off the bed.

“Fuck! The ice cream!”

“What?”

“Shit, I got ice cream, and I didn’t finish putting the groceries away!”

Jacks sprints off to the kitchen to rescue the ice cream, still totally naked. Luc stretches and gets up, stripping off the despoiled jersey and dumping it in the hamper before ambling into the bathroom to clean up. He finds a clean pair of surf shorts for himself and grabs Jacks’ boxers and shorts from where he shed them as he walks to the kitchen, where he finds his naked husband at the counter, perched on one of their kitchen stools, frantically eating melting ice cream.

“Dude, you don’t have to eat the whole thing now.”

“It gets yucky after it’s melted and you try to re-freeze it,” Jacks says defensively. “Besides, I got salmon and asparagus for dinner, I can cheat. Grab a spoon, I’m calling in my ice cream day for you, too.”  
And this day really is all about Jacks, and romance, and maybe eating melting Moose Tracks mostly naked in your kitchen isn’t in the article, but it seems to be working for Jacks, so Luc is willing to go with it.

“Love you, Oli,” he says, pulling his stool close enough to share and grabbing the spoon Jacks has already set out for him.

“Love you too, Chants,” Jacks presses a sticky kiss to his temple. “Toujours.”

His accent is terrible. Luc still loves him anyway.


End file.
